Self-loathing man resolves to spend another year feeling sorry for himself

Seated atop a creaky swivel chair surrounded by discarded Hot Pocket crisping sleeves and dog-eared back issues of Maxim, local man Kevin Lindschmidt, 26, glumly resolved that he’d spend yet another year of his colorless, unexciting, rapidly passing life feeling endlessly sorry for himself in his drab studio apartment and not doing anything to improve his situation.

“I just don’t see the point,” Lindschmidt lamented, sipping a can of Monster energy drink and scrolling through Reddit for the fifth consecutive hour. “It seems like my few remaining friends have less and less time for me nowadays, even though they won’t stop sending me all these dumb invitations to their parties and get-togethers on Facebook. Maybe if I had a hot girlfriend who had sex with me a lot, I wouldn’t be so depressed all the time,” he added.

Derek Lindschmidt, 32, Kevin’s older brother, reportedly gave up trying to help the self-loathing slag heap of self-pity six months ago.

“I’ve tried telling him that things won’t change unless he steps out of his comfort zone, takes responsibility for his situation and stops waiting for the world to deliver happiness to his doorstep,” the elder Lindschmidt said, “but he seems pretty insistent on keeping things exactly the way they are. I stopped inviting him to go out with me and my friends after he spent all night watching the ice melt in his drink and complaining about how life didn’t live up to his expectations. And he’s sure as hell not going to get a girlfriend by hiding away in his room with no hobbies besides 4chan, Pornhub and Netflix.”

As he prepared to post another whiny, rambling, passive-aggressive rant on Facebook about how every dumb douchebag in the world has a hot girlfriend and he doesn’t, Lindschmidt experienced a brief but powerful premonition of himself sitting bolt upright in bed as a 62-year-old man, realizing to his growing horror that he had willfully pissed away his youngest and most flexible years, which were gone forever.

Quickly brushing this disturbing epiphany aside, Lindschmidt dipped a three-day-old chicken finger into last year’s ranch dressing and checked the status of his BitTorrent download of season two of “Heroes.”

“I suppose I could try abusive alcoholism,” he said. “Quick, what’s a good drink that you should order in a bar?”